


Learn to Flirt

by bexorz



Category: Fantastic Four, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Clubbing, Dancing, Groping, Kissing, M/M, Music, failed flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6844099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexorz/pseuds/bexorz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter hasn't had a girlfriend for a while and Johnny takes him to a club to teach him how to flirt and pick up chicks. It takes an obvious turn when Johnny starts flirting with Peter instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learn to Flirt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sciderman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciderman/gifts).



Deep bass boomed from ten foot speakers framing the DJ station at the back of a high profile dance club in the Upper East Side. Johnny Storm had found good reason to drag Peter Parker out to there that night. Pete had been exceptionally tense in recent weeks: always irritated, overzealous in his crime fighting, looking more crabby than he usually did. His sense of humor had nearly disappeared, prompting Johnny to complain that he didn’t even know his friend anymore.

Pete hadn’t gotten laid in two years. The buildup of sexual tension was wrecking his job performance and his relationships everywhere, and Johnny felt that it would be a public service to drag his friend out tonight to rectify the problem. He was going to help Spider-Man get back on track if it took all night, and if they had to visit every single club he knew in the city.

The pair stood by the bar, Johnny with a mixed drink in his hand, and Pete sipping from a predictably boring nonalcoholic beverage.

(“That’s part of your problem, you know,” Johnny had said. “A little booze to loosen up now and then won’t kill you.”

“No.”)

Peter’s brow was furrowed as he stared out over the crowd. “I can’t do this,” he shouted over the music.

The place was packed. It seemed that hundreds of bodies were squeezed into a space that could probably only legally hold half that number. Colorful lights pulsed through the darkness in time with the beat of the music, creative images flashed up on screens hung high on the walls, and a veritable sea of humanity jumped and throbbed rhythmically.

“Come on, of all the things you’ve faced in your life, you’re having a problem with _this?_ ” Johnny shook his head, and took another swig of the fruity-smelling concoction he’d ordered. Poking Peter’s shoulder hard with a finger, he jerked his chin towards a trio of girls who were looking their way. “Check it out. Now’s your chance!”

Peter bit his lip and stared down into his cranberry juice. “I don’t know. Let’s forget it.”

“ _Nuh-_ uh.” Johnny put a solid hand on the small of Pete’s back. “This is your time to shine, my man.”

The hand was warm, _very_ warm, yet it sent a shiver up and down Pete’s spine, making him twitch. Somehow it energized him, and helped him chase away the doubt he was feeling. “Yeah, yeah, ok!”

All pumped up, he knocked back the rest of his juice. The cranberry stung his throat and he let out a harsh cough, pounding his fist on his chest. Puffing up, he put on his best confident walk and stalked away from his friend to go flirt with some girls.

Johnny watched the nerd critically, narrowing his eyes over the edge of his glass and pretending that he _wasn’t_ staring. Peter was talking to the girls now, and things seemed to be going fine. He was gesturing as he spoke, and Johnny hoped that the guy wasn’t saying some nerdy shit that would show what a loser nerd he really was.

The nearby crowds shifted as people wandered back and forth from the bar to the dance floor or other areas, and Johnny lost sight of Peter for a few moments. When the way cleared again, it was just in time so that he could see one of the girls give Peter a very solid, very angry slap across the face.

With a groan of disappointment, Johnny slammed his empty glass down onto the bar. “I need another one of these,” he said to the bartender.

When Pete got back to him, he was looking very red on the cheek, and very dejected and pathetic.

“That was the saddest thing I’ve ever seen,” Johnny said.

“I told you this was a bad idea!”

“No, this is a great idea. That was just the wrong approach.” The Human Torch turned his attention to the dance floor. “You’ve gotta get into your element. Talking is obviously not your element.”

Pete followed Johnny’s gaze. “You want me to go dance.”

“Listen.” Johnny moved in closer to Peter to speak.

Close enough that Pete could smell Johnny’s aftershave. It was a new brand for him. It was a _nice_ brand. He’d have to ask Johnny what kind it was, and hope that it wasn’t too expensive for a poor photographer’s salary.

He took a good hearty sniff, the spicy smell tingling pleasantly in his head.

“Listen,” Johnny repeated. “Dancing is the way to go. You’re handsome and lithe and delectably toned.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Peter was extremely consternated at that comment, and felt the heat rise in his cheeks. It had to be from how close Johnny was. The dude was practically made of fire.

“Yeah, just go dance sexy with someone. Show off your moves.” Johnny emphasized this comment with a smooth roll of his hips.

“Without giving away my secret identity?” Peter scowled.

“You’re supposed to be a genius, Parker. Figure it out.”

Throwing his hands up in defeat, Peter decided he would give it his best shot and get it over with. The bass was doing something to him, rumbling through his body, cranking up his irritability and wishing yet again that he weren’t divorced and had someone that he really liked that he could just go home with.

It did not take Peter very long to make things even worse this time. Sure, he could dance, he had rhythm, he was toned and fluid and could “dance sexy”, but he attracted entirely the wrong sort of attention from the wrong person. As soon as he had started dancing with a girl who looked into him, her boyfriend showed up.

Peter was willing to ignore his spider-sense to take a slap from a girl, but he wasn’t going to let a nasty right hook from a six-foot wall of muscle hit him. When Pete ducked, the punch landed on someone else, instead. That was how the huge fight started.

When the dust settled and the screams stopped, Peter was asked none-too-politely to leave and never come back.

Out in the night air, Johnny swore creatively and took Peter’s hand firmly in his. “All right. I’m not going to let this stop me. We’ll try another club. This _is_ going to work.”

“This is not going to work, Johnny. I just want to go home.” Peter could have easily pulled his hand away, but he didn’t. Johnny’s hot hand gripping his was vaguely comforting. Was Johnny rubbing his thumb over Peter’s palm?

“Yes. This is _going_ to work.” Johnny nodded decisively, and when he shot off down the street Peter felt obliged to allow Johnny to drag him.

Johnny refused to let go of Peter’s hand all the way to another club he liked. The bouncer let them in, recognizing the famous Human Torch, amidst the disappointed shouts of the ordinary jokers standing around outside.

“You are _primo_ stock, Pete,” Johnny said, finally letting go of his friend’s hand once they were inside. “The music is better here, too.”

“I’m not cattle.”

“Shush. I’m going to teach you how to flirt.” He whirled, planting his hands firmly on Peter’s shoulders. “Forget everything you _think_ you know about how to do this.”

“I don’t know anything about how to do this.”

“Even better!” Johnny leaned in, draping an arm over Peter’s shoulders. “So you’ll just have to watch me closely—“

“I don’t want to watch you flirt with girls.” Peter pursed his lips. “Just tell me.”

“No. I’m going to flirt with _you_.”

“What??”

“Just work with me here, Pete.”

Peter had no idea how he was supposed to do that. In fact, he really wasn’t sure about this at all. Johnny’s arm was hot over his shoulders and his aftershave still smelled _really_ good, and it was really distracting.

The music blared, the bass pumped, and Peter couldn’t help tapping his foot and rocking his hip to the beat.

“Ok, fine,” Peter said. “Go ahead.”

Johnny made a shooing motion with both hands. “First you go, just go dance.”

“By myself?”

“ _Yes_. Are you going to work with me or not?!”

Peter rolled his eyes, stuck out his tongue, and squeezed through the crowd out to the dance floor. Unsure what Johnny was planning here, his dancing was at first awkward. Until he realized that maybe his friend was just tricking him into this. Maybe if he relaxed and forgot about the whole plan of getting laid, he could just enjoy dancing and work the heat out of his system.

It wasn’t until Pete got back into the music, his body working with the bass, that Johnny came out of the crowd and started dancing in front of him. No, Pete realized, Johnny was not tricking him. He was really going to do this.

Johnny might not have superhuman strength and reflexes, but in many ways he was a much better dancer than Peter was. He knew the songs better, and he knew the right twists and thrusts and gestures to complement the music and his own ability.

Pete kept dancing on his own while he watched Johnny, and while Johnny curled his arms into the air, rolled his torso, and slid his feet across the floor, Pete marveled at how radiant Johnny looked. The man was comfortable, easy, and fluid in everything he did. Then Johnny moved closer, fluttered his eyelids up from the floor and his glance met Peter’s, and Peter’s heart jumped into his throat.

What.

“Th-this isn’t what I think of as flirting,” Peter said, trying not to lose the beat.

Johnny’s eyes flashed. “Shut up and dance, Pete.”

The Human Torch moved even closer, changing the rhythm of his twisting and rolling his body to more closely match Pete’s dancing. Pete had to admit to himself that Johnny looked _good_.

Before he knew it, Johnny had moved behind him, nearly hovering over him. Peter felt the hot puff of Johnny’s breath against the side of his neck a moment later and froze. Johnny was still swaying to the music, and Pete closed his eyes and forced himself to start moving again.

Heat blossomed through Pete’s skin when Johnny put both hands on his hips. It was enough to be stimulating, but not enough to burn. Pete still felt like he was burning.

Thumbs traced parallel lines up his sides, and Johnny’s fingers tickled under the edge of Peter’s shirt just in front of his hips.

Peter was pretty sure that this is not at all what he would consider “flirting”. He couldn’t say it, though, because his breath was coming in shallow and his ears were hot. The only reason that he was able to keep dancing was because his brain had stopped.

“Hey baby.” Johnny’s breath was on Pete’s ear now, and then his tongue was.

“Oh my god,” Peter said with a shudder.

“Come on, play along. I’m trying to teach you something.” Johnny’s palms were pressed flat against Pete’s ribs, and then they were sliding down pressed firmly against Pete’s belly.

Peter was pretty sure that Johnny was teaching him something different from what he had thought he’d be learning.

Hooking thumbs into Pete’s jeans, Johnny pulled Pete against him, grinding his hips, swiping his tongue up the side of Pete’s neck.

Grabbing Johnny’s wrists, Peter wrenched Johnny’s hands off and spun him around. “Fuck it,” he growled, curling his fingers around the side of Johnny’s face and smashing their mouths together. A deep, involuntary moan rolled out of his throat as he did, and he tasted pineapple and rum on Johnny’s soft, pliant mouth as he devoured it.

“Aw hell yeah,” Johnny gasped against Pete’s mouth.

Johnny’s hands were on Pete’s back, rucking up his shirt, spreading heat through him. They were still dancing, grinding against each other, bodies full of throbbing bass and adrenaline and long-suppressed desire.

They should’ve just done this in the first place.

Five minutes later, they were crammed into a broom closet, desperately trying to get each other out of their clothes.

The music was too loud for anyone to hear or care what they did for the next half hour.


End file.
